It Comes Down to This
by JamesLuver
Summary: Through trials and tribulations, it all comes down to one thing for Jonah and Cesca: a forbidden love and a bond too strong to break.
1. 2 AM

**A/N: **It has to be said: I'm in love with Jonah/Cesca. :3

**Disclaimer:** If I owned _Waterloo Road_, Andrew and Kim would still be there together, and all would've ended well for Jonah/Cesca. The end.

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><p><em><span> It Comes Down to This<span>_

_1. 2AM_

It's not unusual for Cesca Montoya to be awake at this ungodly hour, but something is different about tonight. Something is very different. Tonight (or today, she muses distractedly), there is someone in bed beside her, someone with lean, muscular arms and a warm, reassuring embrace.

Jonah.

His chin rests atop her head, his hands splayed protectively against her flat stomach, keeping her safe from the world's accusing eyes, staving off reason. She lies quietly in his arms, watching the seconds tick by on her bedside clock, waiting for the first grey fingers of light to filter in through the curtains and accuse her with their harsh, gnarled bones, accuse her of taking advantage, or leading him on, of taking his innocence.

It's wrong, what they've done. She should never have allowed herself to kiss him, let alone allow things to get as far as this; cuddled up in the cloak of darkness, naked flesh against naked flesh. Guilt flashes through her body, and she closes her eyes at its intensity. Her career is on the line now. For weeks it has been teetering on the edge, threatening to snap from the thread that keeps it suspended above the roiling cauldron of corrosive acid. Now it has shattered, and she can already feel its bitter burn.

This shouldn't have happened.

But then she feels him shift against her, rousing blearily as she presses herself more securely against him, hears him murmur, _"Cesca, are you okay?"_ against her hair as his palm slides up her side to press over her racing heartbeat, and that sound – the sound of his warm, assured voice rumbling quietly through the darkness – banishes those resounding doubts from her mind, and she relaxes fully in his embrace.

"I'm fine," she whispers back and realises that it is the utter truth. Lying here in the darkness of two AM, with Jonah's arms around her, feels scarily right. She brings his knuckles to her mouth, kissing them fiercely to emphasise her point, and she feels his smile against her hair.

In the comforting darkness of two AM there are no regrets. In the comforting darkness of two AM there are no accusing fingers. In the comforting darkness of two AM there are no ill omens of wrong.

There is only the warm weight of Jonah against her, the most right feeling in the world.

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><p><strong>AN:** This is quite clearly set after episode 6.14, the night after the first time. In 6.15 Cesca says that she has "no regrets", but I'm sure at some point during the night she must have felt some sort of guilt. This is my stab at it.

Let me know what you think of my first Jesca attempt, and more drabbles are to follow soon. :D


	2. Metaphor

**A/N:** You have no idea what an absolute bitch this chapter was to write. A few weeks ago I had this chapter nigh perfect - all that was needed was a last check through for any errors before posting.

And then the document corrupted itself, leaving me with nothing to show for the effort I'd put in. Needless to say I lost all inspiration right then and there.

But now I've re-wrote this second chapter, and although it's nowhere near as good as it was the first time around, it's as good as it's going to get this time.

**Sazzy** - Glad you liked it! Thanks for the review!

**Sophie** - I'm happy that you think I captured Cesca's feelings well, especially since it's the first time I've ever tried Jesca fanfiction before. Thank you for the review!

**Dani** - Yeah, Jesca definitely need to be kept alive since they're no longer in the show! I'll try my best to do just that. :) Thanks for reviewing!

**Sophie** - Heehee, here's the continuation chapter. Thanks for both the review and the compliment! (Are you the same Sophie who reviewed before?)

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><p><em><span>2. Metaphor<span>_

Tom Clarkson enters the staff room with a stack of papers balanced precariously in his arms. Noticing Cesca sitting on her own he makes his way over to her, sitting down beside her with a huff. She looks up and flashes him a smile, which he returns.

"I'll be glad when it's the weekend," he says as a means of opening conversation and she nods in agreement, her smile turning sympathetic.

"That bad, huh?" she says, in reference to his morning – bottom set year nine, uninterested year twelves and a bunch of year elevens too cocky for their own good.

"Yeah," he says in agreement, "although I _did_ find out something amusing about Jonah Kirby."

At the mention of the boy's name, Cesca can feel her ears beginning to burn. Glad that her dark hair flows well past her ears, she tries to keep her voice as level as possible. "Oh? And what's that?"

Tom is grinning. "It seems that Mr. Kirby is a total romantic."

This catches Cesca off-guard. "What?"

"That's what I thought," Tom says. "Normally lads his age are more interested in the upcoming footie game or partying the night away. But the assignment I just set the class has changed my opinion of him on _that_ matter."

Cesca is sure that the blush is spilling over her cheeks now. Fighting desperately to keep her voice neutral, she says, "what was the assignment, then?"

"I had the class pondering the subject of _what is love?_" Tom snickers. "It's for their main topic next year, so I thought that I'd give them a head start. I asked them to write down what they thought love was, and I think Jonah got a little carried away. Want to see?"

Cesca doesn't think that Tom should be flaunting another person's work around in the staff room if he doesn't have permission to do so, especially since he seems to be treating the whole thing as a joke, but she can't deny that she is curious. Ever since Kyle Stack's dog had tried to attack her and Jonah had been there to save her, she's been having some very decidedly _not_ professional thoughts about the young teenage boy. By having a look at his writing, she reasons, she is a little closer to knowing what he is truly like.

"Pass it here, then," she says to Tom, and he does so at once with another cheeky grin.

Without another word, she begins to read.

_Love is the way your stomach lurches when your skin meets. Love is caring for someone more than you've ever cared about someone before. Love is the way that the unknown becomes a lot less scary when you have someone to share it with. Love is a beacon in a storm. Love is a goddess with a smile that dims everything else in the room._

_Love is a goddess with dark hair and eyes._

The world around Cesca stops turning. Her heart freezes in her chest.

The woman with dark hair and eyes could be any number of people. Hell, there are enough of those in the school, never mind people that Jonah might know out of school. And yet…and yet Cesca somehow knows who the person in the text is supposed to be.

Jonah has used _her_ as the metaphor for love.

More heat floods her face as she comes to this conclusion. There have been little hints that Jonah might fancy her over the last weeks, and even though it is unprofessional, Cesca has done nothing to dissuade him…has even encouraged it a little. Now it seems like Jonah's harmless crush means a lot more than it appeared at first glance.

"You feeling okay?" Tom asks, concerned.

"I'm fine." She hears herself reply as though from a great distance, still clutching the paper in her fist. Her palms are beginning to sweat.

"You look ill," Tom continues to pester. "Why don't you go outside for a bit of fresh air?"

"Maybe that's a good idea," she says, eager to get away from Tom so that she can try and calm down the furious beating of her heart in her chest; it is pounding so fast that she thinks it will crack her ribcage open and fall right out into the young Mr. Kirby's hands.

"You want some company?" Tom asks, but Cesca shakes her head.

"No, thanks. I'll be fine by myself."

"Okay." The English teacher looks a bit downhearted, but Cesca chooses to ignore this in favour of escaping the staff room with her façade still neatly in place. She makes it out into the corridor and leans her forehead against the cool glass of the window, breathing in deeply, oblivious to the children laughing and making a huge ruckus in the corridor.

Jonah has written about her in his English paper. If anyone ever realises just what his words mean…Tom is laughing about them now, but if he chooses to read between the lines, dig a little deeper…

A chill runs down her spine. She's done nothing, wrong per se, but she'd still feel the hammer of justice shatter her in two as it crashed down on her head. She'd be ruined.

And yet there is still a part of her that finds the prospect of the two of them exciting; an illicit heat sears through her loins at the mere thought of kissing him.

She's done nothing wrong

_(yet)_

but, oh God, there is something so erotic about the whole situation. She knows that she needs to back off and keep her distance from the young boy, but deep down she knows she won't.

She is playing a very dangerous game.

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><p><strong>AN:** A review would be appreciated muchly. ;)


	3. Sky

_3. Sky_

He wants to shout it from the rooftops, scream it so that everyone can hear him.

_I love Francesca Montoya. I love Francesca Montoya. I love Francesca Montoya._

He hadn't even realised what was happening to him until it was too late. Every glance he'd given her, every shiver that had careened down his spine when their hands had accidently touched…he hadn't known that they'd come to _mean_ anything.

He hadn't expected to fall for her.

But he has. Oh, how he has.

At first he'd thought that it was just a silly teenage crush. It wasn't uncommon for a pupil to fancy their teacher, and Miss Montoya certainly was a beautiful woman.

No…not Miss Montoya. Francesca. Cesca.

At first he'd lie awake in bed at night, unable to sleep because thoughts of her invaded his mind. Thoughts of running his fingers through her thick black hair, thoughts of pressing his mouth over every soft contour of her face, thoughts of unwrapping her body like some precious, religious object…

His own teacher. Miss Montoya. Cesca.

He feels feverish in his desire for her. If the other lads even knew they'd simply dismiss it as a simple case of lust. They'd tell him that he needed to get laid, that the problem would soon pass.

Jonah knows that it won't. Because, despite everything, he's in love. With his teacher. Miss Montoya. Cesca.

He wishes that he could shout his feelings to the sky, let the universe in on his happiness. It doesn't matter that they're not together yet, because he knows that they will be. He can tell from her expression – dark, needy – that she wants him, too. It makes his heart tighten within the confines of his chest, because he knows that eventually things will play out the way that they're intended to. He just has to be patient. He is naïve and arrogant enough to think that things will turn out exactly how he sees them.

He _will_ get Cesca. He _will_ be able to kiss her breathless, to hold her in his arms, to press every inch of his body against hers. He _will_ be able to declare his love for her to the skies, to the world, make everyone listen to him.

But for now, he has to content himself with burying his face into his pillow and whispering those treacherous words –_ I_ _love you, Cesca_ – into the darkness of his room.

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><p><strong>AN:** A fairly short one this time, but hopefully it works like that. :)

Review?


	4. Lost Scene

_4. Lost Scene_

They shouldn't be doing what they're doing. They're in enough danger as it is. She is having an affair with a student. She's expecting his baby. If anyone ever finds out, then she will be sent to prison for certain. It doesn't matter that they love each other. She is still his teacher.

But none of that matters, not when Jonah asks her to marry him, then takes her in his arms and presses his lips against hers. The mood is light and playful, a stark contrast to the seriousness of where they are. They should not be considering making love in a store cupboard, at school. The odds of them being discovered are astronomical. And yet they do not care.

She smiles as he manages to slide her shirt up over her head, his large, warm hands catching the skin of her back and making her shudder in anticipation of what is to come. His lips are warm and soft against hers, and she can feel them tugging into a smile beneath her mouth. Her own hands are not idle, running up the front of his shirt and flicking open the buttons with practised ease.

She should be the responsible one. Jonah is the young one, fuelled by his inexperienced desire to dance with the devil, to carry out the lost scene in the play that they have just witnessed. And yet, when his hands meet her body, she finds that she cannot resist him. This once, she will live dangerously.

The danger of the situation heightens her reaction to him, and soon she is panting and desperate beneath his touch.

They don't hear the opening of the classroom door.

They don't hear the footsteps crossing the room.

They don't realise that light is now spilling into their hiding place.

Not until it is too late.

They are faced with the shocked faces of Ronan and Vicki. The ardour in Cesca's blood veins has frozen. Only icy terror is left behind.

They had been desperate to re-enact a lost scene of the play.

Sometimes, it is better when they stay lost.

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><p><strong>AN:** I haven't actually watched the latter part of series six since it ended, therefore my recollections of this scene are fairly hazy. Hopefully it doesn't stray too much from the canon event and hopefully it can still be enjoyable.


	5. Degrees

_5. Degrees_

She doesn't fall for him straight away. It's not as though she looks at him for the first time and feels a fluttering in her stomach, with her heart palpitating wildly in her chest. When he first arrives in school, in her class, she barely notices him.

And then everything changes when Kyle Stack's dog attacks her. Jonah is strong and brave and protects her so well. His arms around her…they feel _right_.

She would have been blind not to notice his affections after that. The little smiles that he casts her way, the way that his eyes follow her around the classroom. She tries to ignore the butterflies that are beating their wings insistently against her insides.

Because, little by little, degree by degree, she is falling for him.

She knows she is wrong to. She knows that she can't. She is his teacher. He is her pupil. And yet she is drawn to the way his dark eyes smile when he is happy; a moth helplessly attracted to the flame. He is gentle and kind and mature and so unlike any other teenaged boy that she knows. His arms…she knows they are strong and muscular, a quiet strength hidden beneath the layers of his school uniform. She catches herself staring at his mouth, her mind conjuring up images of what it might be like to kiss them. She berates herself harshly for those thoughts, then attempts to push him away in an effort to keep their relationship professional.

When he kisses her for the first time, she is lost. Helpless. Defeated. Her head is filled with his scent and his touch and the softness of his mouth. Her life, which has been tipping precariously towards the full one hundred and eighty degree tilt, falls forward quicker than a roller coaster descending from its zenith. She is hurtling towards the finish line with no way of stopping herself, no hope of saving herself.

Because now the truth is undeniable: she is irrevocably in love with a pupil.

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><p><strong>AN:** And this is the last one. It was, to some extent, inspired by the Dowager Countess' quote, _...Sometimes we must let the blow fall by degrees_, in the series _Downton Abbey_ as this was the first thing that sprang to mind when I read what the prompt was for this one.

Hopefully these have been enjoyable. Thanks for reading.


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